


Brothers and Direwolves

by Name_Pending



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Can be easily read as sibling fluff, Fluff, Gen, Implied future Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Name_Pending/pseuds/Name_Pending
Summary: Sansa barely remembered Ghost. She hadn't seen a direwolf since her beloved Lady was killed, and now one was right in front of her.





	Brothers and Direwolves

Once Jon and Sansa finally let go of each other, Jon stared at her in awe for a few moments before he ushered her out of the freezing courtyard of Castle Black and up some creaky wooden stairs. Sansa followed blindly, Jon’s hand in hers, only vaguely remembering to tell Brienne that she could leave her. Normally she didn’t feel safe without Brienne, but she was safe with Jon. Brienne and Podrick both needed time to clean up anyway. 

Sansa went with her half-brother in silence, barely noticing when Jon stopped and pushed open a door. He nodded her inside and followed her in, shutting the door behind him.

She looked around the room. It was dark inside, only one candle burning. There wasn’t much in the room, but she didn’t really take the time to study the quarters. She only really had eyes for her half-brother, who reminded her so strongly of their father that it was almost painful to look at him. Jon had always looked like their father, the way she looked like her mother, but now the resemblance was stronger. 

Jon looked older. He looked tired. Yet he was still the same Jon she remembered from her childhood days at Winterfell, and that was a bigger comfort than she’d had in a very long time.

Sansa sat down on the bed quietly while Jon lit a fire. She was grateful for that - it was still uncomfortably cold in here. 

Jon must have noticed that, because he grabbed a cloak that was draped over a chair and draped it around her shoulders. It was a little musty but she barely noticed things like that any more; it was warm and that was all that mattered. Jon was warm, too, when he sat down next to her. She could feel it despite the short distance between  
them. 

The half-siblings looked at one another and smiled hesitantly. Now that the initial shock had dissipated and they were alone - away from their earlier audience of Brienne and men of the Night’s Watch and what looked like wildlings - things were not so easy as they had been outside. 

A silence fell over them and both wracked their brains for the right thing to say. It wasn’t easy for either of them - they’d never been that close. 

They were, however, prevented from having to say anything at all by a knock at the door. 

Jon stood up quickly, shooting her an apologetic glance, and answered the door. 

Sansa saw a thin, darked haired man outside. He was a brother of the Watch and he handed a sword out to Jon.

“You left this” he said quietly. 

Jon thanked him and took the sword, and Sansa heard him ask the other man to make sure nobody disturbed them. She was grateful for the privacy. 

Jon shut the door as the man left, but before it slid shut, a great white shape padded silently into the room. Sansa’s heart caught in her throat as she realised that it was a white direwolf, her brother’s direwolf. Ghost. 

Sansa had not seen the wolf since a few days before she’d left Winterfell. He was much bigger than she remembered him being. Ghost had always been different to the other direwolves, always separate from the pack in some way. He’d always been quiet in a way the others weren’t. He was the odd one out, just like Jon had always been.

And seeing him now reminded her so much of her own direwolf that she wanted to cry. 

Sansa had gotten over Lady’s death a long time ago - so much had happened that the loss of a pet just paled in comparison to Joffrey’s tormenting and Ramsay’s abuse - but she had never forgotten her beloved wolf. Lady had been so good, so pretty, so absolutely perfect. She had been innocent, and Cersei had had her killed anyway.

Sansa didn’t blame her father for Lady’s death any more. Now that the pain had faded, Sansa knew that Cersei was to blame for the poor wolf’s death. Her death had been the first clue Sansa had been given into how spiteful and without mercy the Lannister was. 

The pain had faded but the wound never fully healed, and seeing another wolf now was very painful.

Jon didn’t notice at first. He simply ran his hand over the white wolf’s back and rubbed at Ghost’s ears. The wolf nipped gently at his hand before trotting over to Sansa, sniffing at her curiously.

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard, offering her hand out to Ghost for him to smell. The wolf sniffed at her for only a second before he turned big red eyes to her face, looking right at her like he remembered her. 

Maybe he remembers Lady, she thought, and it saddened her. She could reunite with Jon but Ghost could never reunite with Lady. 

The white wolf nuzzled against her hand and moved forward a little so she could touch him properly. Without thinking first, Sansa removed her gloves so she could run her bare fingers through the white fur, cleaner than she would have thought possible up here. It was a little coarse but it reminded her of Lady.

Jon placed the sword on a table and joined her on the bed, watching her interact with her wolf.

“You lost your wolf” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on Ghost. “I had a letter about that. I’m sorry, Sansa.”

“It wasn’t your fault” she murmured, focused still on stroking the wolf’s fur. “It was Cersei’s.”

“What happened?"

She knew that Jon just meant to ask what had happened to Lady, but it was such a loaded question. What had happened to her was a far longer story than that of her poor wolf.

She looked away from Ghost’s beautiful, haunting red eyes and up to the dark, sympathetic eyes of her brother.

“Jon, so much has happened to me. I don’t know where to begin.”

Jon seemed to stare into her soul for a moment before he smiled kindly. “At the beginning. I want to know everything, Sansa. From the moment you left Winterfell.” His smile faded. “A lot has happened to me, too.”

Sansa nodded. “I want to know everything, too.”

Their eyes met and the two smiled - their smiles were genuine and full of affection. 

“Do you want to swap stories first, or do you want a bath first?” Jon asked.

Sansa’s smile widened into a grin. “A bath would be lovely. It was a long ride here.”

Jon nodded, grinning back and standing up. He offered a hand to her and she smiled warmly at him before taking it. 

A bath would clear her mind and cleanse her body, and then she could talk to Jon. She wondered what he had been through, and she hoped it was a kinder story than hers.

As the two walked out of the room and through corridors she didn’t know (strangers watching all the while), Jon’s hand remained clasped in hers and his direwolf followed behind them. The direwolf was a painful reminder of Lady, it was true, but she was still a Stark - the direwolf was a comfort. It felt right to have him trailing along behind them.

Sansa ignored the stares of all the strange occupants of Castle Black, focusing on Jon’s hand in hers and the wolf following them and the feeling of finally being safe with someone she remembered from her happy childhood.

She knew that there was a lot for her and Jon to cover between them, and their conversation was sure to be unpleasant. She didn’t want to relive her demons, much as she already knew she was going to tell him. As Jon led her, Sansa let her bare hand drift back to run along Ghost’s fur. She hadn’t thought about the wolf since she’d left Winterfell, but she was more glad to see him than she could’ve imagined. 

Being with her brother and the direwolf, it felt like coming home.


End file.
